


On the Feast of Stephen

by TheGoodDoctor



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: My Secret Scones entry for AVeryExtraordinaryScene. Featuring snow, crackers, breakfast, the car breaking down and the briefest mention of a favourite book from childhood. Happy holidays!





	On the Feast of Stephen

Breath curls, white and slow, towards the foggy windscreen.

“Sighing is yet to help, Sidney,” Lady Felicia says. She doesn't sound irritated just yet, but her tone is getting that clipped edge that suggests she might be soon.

“Sorry, Ladyship,” he replies, turning in his seat. “But with this snow, and the motor gone, I'm not sure what will.”

Lady Felicia turns to her companion. “Pray for us, Father? Sorry this lift hasn't been much good.”

Father Brown smiles, unconcerned. “Anything is better than walking in the snow. It really isn't as charming as it seemed in the books one reads as a child.”

“I dunno, Father, still a bit magic for me,” Sid says.

“You are a child, Sid,” Felicia says dryly with a smile to take the sting out.

He accepts this with good grace, then squints out into the darkness with a grimace. “I'll go and have another look, then.”

“Don't get too cold,” Father Brown says, frowning.

He shrugs. “Be alright, got thick skin. Besides, got to get you two home for dinner and crackers and all that.”

“Mmm, Mrs McCarthy's cooking,” Lady Felicia says happily. “Worth any snowy trek, I say.”

Sid grins, braces himself and climbs out into the snow. The wind whistles in and is quickly shut out, but the remaining occupants shiver. “Well, perhaps not,” Felicia says, drawing her coat tighter around her shoulders.

Father Brown hums in agreement. “I'm worried about the Masons. Their house never copes well in this weather.”

“They’re out by the forest, aren't they? What do they need?”

“Wood, a few blankets - would you mind?”

She waves a hand dismissively. “One hardly like to relate to Scrooge. Besides, it isn't really my money. Monty’s miles away and will hardly even notice.”

Father Brown looks at his hands, giving her space. “I'm sorry he's not here.”

“I'm not. Does that make me a horrible person? To hardly ever miss my husband, even at Christmas?” She fusses with her gloves, tugging the fingertips in turn.

When she eventually looks at Father Brown, he is returning her gaze with endless sympathy. “No,” he says softly. “Not at all. I'm sorry that you aren't closer, but God is forgiving, and He can't make you get on.”

She smiles. “Shame. If He could, it would make your job much easier.”

He chuckles. “Yes, I suppose it would.”

She sighs loudly, tapping her nails on her knees. “Hurry up, Sid, it's getting late.”

Father Brown checks his watch. “We've missed dinner, I'm afraid.”

“No crackers?” Lady Felicia pouts. “Sid won't like that awfully much.”

Father Brown looks pensive, but before Lady F can inquire the motor rumbles to life around them. They both cheer.

Sid opens his door, beaming. “Hooray indeed. We're gonna have to take her slow, though, in this snow.”

“Whatever you think best, Sid. We leave it in your capable hands,” Father Brown says.

* * *

By the time they're safely back in the kitchen, shoes steaming gently by the stove, it's early morning. There are three covered plates on the table and Mrs McCarthy can be heard snoring upstairs.

Sid flops back in his chair like a ragdoll. “I don't wanna do that again.”

“Fewer winter excursions can be arranged,” Lady Felicia yawns.

Father Brown peers under the covers and grins. The other two watch in sleepy bewilderment as he lays the table before them with the beef cobbler that should have been their dinner and then spends a good minute with his head in a cupboard, looking for something.

Lady Felicia and Sid exchange confused and somewhat concerned looks. “Father…?” she begins.

“Aha!” Father Brown emerges from the cupboard, close enough to smacking his head on it in his enthusiasm to make his companions wince. He is triumphantly holding three crackers.

Sid’s face lights up and he cheers. “This is a strange breakfast,” he declares happily.

“It is indeed,” says Father Brown, handing out mugs of tea. “But topsy-turvy nonsense is traditional during the twelve days of-”

“Hang on, Father,” Sid interrupts, standing. He moves Lady Felicia’s chair carefully so that it faces the fire more and she is less likely to drop off into her dinner, and leaves her to sleep. Father Brown smiles as he sits back down. “So, this topsy-turvy nonsense then. Think I can get away with arresting Mallory?”

Father Brown gains a mischievous glint in his eye. “I dare say we could give it a go…”


End file.
